


The Sacrifice of Clint Barton

by PaxieAmor



Series: The Great Dragon Chronicles [1]
Category: The Avengers
Genre: Fantasy AU, My brain is weird, What the hell is wrong with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxieAmor/pseuds/PaxieAmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton was a great many things… virgin sacrifice? Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sacrifice of Clint Barton

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so! I am a HUGE fan of the [Notes from SHIELD Agents](notesfromshield.tumblr.com) tumblr. The role players are awesome and caring and I got a response from Bruce Banner once that I have saved on my computer to read on bad days.
> 
> This story is greatly inspired by NfSA's Clint Barton, who often says that Phil was once a Great Dragon and... you know what, just click [here](http://notesfromshield.tumblr.com/post/24640724702/agent-coulson-is-a-great-dragon-theres-a-story-behind) and [here](http://notesfromshield.tumblr.com/post/24741426061) and read it all for yourself.
> 
> This story has been beta'd by [mischief7manager](http://mischief7manager.tumblr.com). Thank you, doll!

Clint Barton was a great many things; funny, attractive as all hell, dashing as sin, a fantastic archer… virgin sacrifice? Not so much.

Yet here he was, bound to a single tree on the shores of the seemingly bottomless Lake Avenger, waiting on the Great Dragon to come claim him. Today, clearly, wasn’t a good day.

He had heard the all the stories of course, ever since he was a kid; there were various legends of the Great Dragon going back for centuries. They weren’t just stories, though; not a man, woman or child in the village of York had not seen the dragon in the sky above, heard his roar echo through the lands. The Great Dragon wasn’t just a story. He was their ruler.

No matter who held the king’s throne, it was really the Great Dragon who reigned over the lands, and he did so with the fiery fury of a thousand suns. Seriously, you didn’t want to be on the wrong side of his rage, which was normally focused on anyone who took greedily from his lands. Those who killed more than their share of game animals, or harvested more lumber than necessary were often ‘rewarded’ with their farms being swiftly destroyed by the flames he would breathe.

Frankly, Clint thought that was pretty awesome; people needed to learn respect for the world, and if they couldn’t manage that, there was no reason why they shouldn’t have their worldly possessions barbecued.

One day, a villager suggested that a sacrifice be made in order to appease the Great Dragon; it was decided that on next full moon, a virgin tribute would be left for the Great Dragon by the shores of Lake Avenger, in hopes that he would take the sacrifice and let the villagers take as they pleased from his lands.

Clint, who was so _not_ virginal in any way, shape or form, had somehow drawn the short straw and was to be the first sacrifice to the Great Dragon. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that the villager who suggested the whole sacrifice thing was the owner of the local pub; the same local pub that Clint not only had a quite impressive tab at, but he destroyed more than once during a drunken brawl. On one hand, the villager was insuring that Clint would never bust up his pub again. On the other, he was also insuring that he’d never get the money Clint owed him.

Seriously, people are _idiots_.

In retrospect, Clint supposed he could have fought a little harder for his life; he had bested most of the strongest men in York when he was _drunk_ , it would have been easy to do so when sober…

But in the end, his being chosen as the sacrifice (probably) wasn’t because of his unpaid tab or the chaos he had caused. He was chosen because he had the least to lose. When it was all said and done, Clint really had nothing to live for and the entire town knew it; himself included. Clint was here because he was expendable… and he was okay with that.

“You’ve picked a very interesting night to be tied to a tree by the lake.” Clint looked to his left; about ten yards away, but walking towards him, was a man. The man looked to be about Clint’s height, perhaps a bit shorter. The garments he wore were… interesting; a black long sleeved jacket that seemed to have armored plates at the shoulders, a white undershirt with some sort of neck adornment (Clint had heard of such accessories, he thinks they’re called ‘ties’) and a pair of eyeglasses with lenses dark as the night around them. Dark glasses at night; there was likely a melody in there somewhere.

“Speak for yourself,” Clint said. “You might not want to be here in the next few minutes or so.” The man had continued walking towards him, but stopped a few feet away.

“Why is that, Mister..?”

“Barton. Clint Barton.”

“Alright, Clint Barton; why is that?”

“Well, if the village of York gets its way, the Great Dragon will be here and he’ll either fry me where I stand or take me home for dinner…” He looked at the man, cracking a half smile. “Either way, I wouldn’t want you to get whatever’s coming in my place.” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t you now?” Clint shook his head. “And why not? Surely, if the Great Dragon took me in your stead, it would save your life.”

“My life isn’t the one I’m here to save.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “There’s good people in York; I don’t know any of them personally, but there are some. They’re the ones who spoke up, said this idea was insane, even after it was decided that I’d be the one left here tonight. They’re the ones that know if we just play by the dragon’s rules, everything will be fine.”

“And yet those ‘good people’ still allowed this?” Clint shook his head.

“Unfortunately, there’s less of those good people in York and more of the idiots who think leaving me here will get them what they want… and honestly, I’d rather it be me than any of them.”

“Oh? You want to be taken by the dragon?”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

“If the dragon doesn’t come,” Clint replied, “the idiots will think it’s because he wanted something else, or some _one_ else… maybe they’ll think he wanted blood and kill some innocent person for it. I’m planning on giving the dragon a chance, but if he doesn’t come? I’m getting the hell out of here and hope they believe the dragon took me.”

“And if they don’t believe it?” the man asked. “What will you do then?”

“Find a way to stop them… probably come back, claim I was sent by the dragon and tell them to knock their shit off.” Clint looked around; it was well after midnight, if the Great Dragon was coming, it would likely be soon. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if you’d went home…”

“You think the dragon will come?”

“Until proven wrong, I do. And like I said before, I don’t want anyone getting what’s coming to me.” The man grinned, removing his glasses and revealing a striking pair of blue-grey eyes.

“You have heart,” he said, his words tinted with amusement. “I think I’m going to enjoy you.” Before Clint could ask what he meant by that, the man began to _change_. He began to grow, the black clothes he wore growing with him and turning into skin… not skin, _scales_.

“Holy shit,” Clint said as he stared at the large beast before him. “ _You’re_ the Great Dragon…” The dragon began to chuckle. Seconds later, a long tail appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around Clint and the tree he was bound to, yanking it from the earth. The dragon raised the tree up so he and Clint were face to face.

"I have a name, Clint Barton," he stated plainly. His voice was similar to what it had been before, though there was more of a growling tone to it. It sent shivers through Clint’s spine, but at the same time… it was calming. For some reason, that dragon’s voice made him feel _safe_.

"Do you?" he asked, looking into the dragon’s eyes; they were still the same blue-grey they had been before, but they now held a sort of fiery tint to them…

"Yes."

"…and that would be?"

"Phil." Clint blinked a couple times, unsure if the dragon was serious; he apparently was.

"...Phil."

"Yes, Phil."

"Phil, the Great Dragon?" Phil, as he was insisting he was named, raised a scaly eyebrow.

“I’ve decided not to eat you, Clint Barton; please don’t make me change my mind.” Clint looked surprised.

“You’re not going to eat me?” he asked.

“No,” the dragon replied, shaking his head.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Before Clint could reply to that, the dragon… No, he couldn’t just call him ‘the dragon’ anymore, could he? He was Phil. And Phil stretched out his gigantic wings, lifting himself and Clint and the tree Clint was bound to into the air, soaring towards. Mount Coulson. Clint had always liked that mountain; he’d never scaled it, only admired from a distance. The stories of the Great Dragon alleged that he lived in a cave at the peak of the mountain… and until Phil decided what he was going to do with him, Clint imagined that he was going to be living there too.

It sure beat getting eaten.


End file.
